The Red Alert Story

The Red Alert Story.
by Gareth Bird

CHAPTER VII
They spent the next two days waiting in the submarine, resting and loading themselves up with ammunition and other essential supplies. At just before five o'clock in the morning, Murphy (a member of Walden's group) quickly, yet quietly, hurried along the submarine's darkened interior into the supply rooms and gave the signal that the Soviets were coming aboard and preparing to leave.

"Good luck." whispered Walden as he looked at his watch for reassurance. With that, everyone dissipated in twos and threes to their respective hiding places which had been decided previously. Jack fumbled in the dark and got to his cupboard with Gray and Shaw in about 25 seconds, a few seconds slower than when they rehearsed it, but it wasn't five minutes to five when they did so before.

Their necessary equipment was there already. They took out their rifles just as the faint glow appeared around the edge of the blackened door indicating to Jack how poor the workmanship of the supposedly sealed watertight door was, but more importantly that the Soviets were indeed aboard and the generator was on.

Their space was crammed and it did not take long before they felt the pains of their positions catching up on their already uncomfortable joints. Time passed, and all their senses could deliver was the sound of men bustling along the main corridor. Jack reached out and held his cracked, strapless wristwatch up to the narrow shaft of light. It was now a quarter to seven. He sighed silently and returned his watch to his pocket.

Within seconds of doing so, the door quickly jerked open and they were hit by a blinding light which scourged even their tightly clenched eyes. A couple of thuds plummeted onto the sacks of laundry under which they trembled before the door slammed shut again. Jack opened his eyes and pushed one of the sacks slightly so that he could be once again able to breathe. He heard a sigh coming from Shaw, and a couple of cracks from Gray's joints as he tried to reposition his numb legs.

They lay there uninterrupted for a further hour and a half until the main engines on the submarine kicked into life. The relative calmness and quiet was suddenly quashed as the metal sides to the cupboard began to vibrate in their uniformly slight ways. Jack immediately checked his watch which read 8:20 am. The plan was now into its first stage. It had been agreed that simultaneous take-over of the ship was the key to their success; it was no good just a few of them trying to take control, it was all or nothing.

The plan was that they would all strike exactly three hours after the engines began, by which time they hoped to be moving. After about two of these hours, Jack felt the submarine start to move, or so he thought. It was surprisingly difficult to tell whether no not they were actually going anywhere with no visible marker with which to compare their positions as time passed. Jack couldn't help thinking that where the Soviets lacked in the quality of the interior of the submarine, they certainly made up for it with the quality of the ride.

By 11:15 am, Jack, Shaw and Gray had heard nothing but the routine drone of the engines and vibrations and the odd movement outside their hiding place. Nothing indicated that the plan was aborted. They readied themselves as best as they could and watched the seconds pass by slowly. The watch read 11:20 am, and again Jack returned it to his pocket. Something stopped him from kicking open the door. He could hear no activity from Black, Dylan and Murphy in a similar cupboard no more than five yards away. What if the Soviets had thoroughly searched the submarine and had found everyone but themselves. For all he knew, Shaw, Gray and himself could be the only three of the sixteen left aboard. He could still hear nothing. He began to feel the fear of their potentially blown cover creep down his back until it physically hit him at the base of his spine. He shivered. Gray lightly punched Jack's back again. Taking a deep breath and standing up straight, Jack was about to open themselves up to the Soviets when a door crashed open nearby and the sound of men scrambling out and shouting came over him.

Gray pushed by and kicked open the door and barged out with Jack and Shaw close behind. Murphy was already covering two Soviet sailors face down on the floor with their hands on their heads, with his rifle. They immediately set about doing the same thing. Within a few minutes, phase one of Operation : D-Day, as it had come to be known, was complete. All those who's jobs where not essential to the current operation of the submarine were rounded up at gunpoint and taken to the main control room. Six of the allies were dotted in pairs around the submarine with their weapons trained on those doing their duties. The other ten, including Dunn who translated their demands to the Captain, stood 'supervising' the prisoners in a room which was barely capable of sustaining half the number of men inside.

Jack looked around. His knowledge of the British Royal Navy was pretty poor and that of the Soviet's was even worse, after all, he was based on terra firma. He really did not know how many men to expect on a submarine of this size; it could have been 20 or 200. It turned out to be 68 in all. They were all relieved of their weapons and those who had any keys were stripped of these too.

Then it was all over. The cabins were searched and the men were locked in, except those who were working. It was a wonderful success. Not a round of ammunition was spend and it all seemed too easy.

Dunn made it clear that they were to remain with the fleet of submarines until they were as close to Leningrad as possible, where they would inform the rest of the fleet of a fictitious problem on the submarine and that they must break formation to be docked for repairs in Leningrad. The Captain assured that he would comply provided none of his men were harmed, to which Dunn reciprocated by assuring that none of the men would be harmed provided the Captain complied.

"How long until we reach Leningrad?" asked Walden to Dunn. Dunn automatically asked this of the Captain. He looked straight ahead and muttered something, then turned to a man at a computer. The Captain said something to him and the man pulled his headphones off and nodded in obedience. He typed a few commands into the keyboard and ran his fingers through his hair while he waited for the computer to display the results. After a few seconds he tapped his finger on the monitor and read off its results. The Captain nodded and lightly slapped him on the shoulder. The man nodded and returned his headphones.

"<<We can be in Leningrad in 60 hours.>>" said the Captain via Dunn. "<<Assuming you wish to remain with the fleet for as long as possible.>>"

"What's the alternative?" demanded Walden, politely yet sternly.

"<<If we break formation now, perhaps...>>" he paused and scratched his chin while Dunn translated. He looked to the computer operator. "<<...perhaps 48 hours?>>" he suggested after a moment of thought.

"It's no use breaking formation now," informed Jack, who was listening in on the conversation. "There's no way we could convince them we need to resolve some sort of problem in Leningrad, when there's a shipyard not 10 minutes back." he explained.

"He's right." agreed Rigg.

"I know he's right." murmured Walden as he too became lost in thought. "It's no use. We'll just have to stay in formation until we are closer to Leningrad than here."

"Not closer than here, but closer than any shipyard." expanded Jack. "If we're not careful, we may get dumped in the middle of nowhere on some Godforsaken sub-pen."

Walden nodded as he considered this. "OK. Tell him we need a list or a map or something showing all of the shipyards, sub-pens and fucking gravy boat makers from here to Leningrad. We need to time it right and make sure we don't end up setting down for repairs back in fucking Warsaw!"

"OK." said Dunn as he translated what he saw fit to do so. The Captain smiled and pointed at a man, who immediately stood up, saluted and did as the captain asked.

"<<Anything else?>>" he asked.

"No." replied Walden. "No, there's nothing yet, just don't get too comfortable."

Dunn finished his translation and the Captain nodded in acknowledgement and turned on his heel and marched into his quarters.

Walden stood with his head tipped forwards and slowly rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger before taking a long, heavy breath. "Right." he said finally, "I want five men stationed here permanently and as many men to cover the other workers as necessary." he ordered. "I don't need a rota, just sort it out for yourselves." he continued "Just make it clear that no-one transmits a message to anybody over that or any other communication equipment without my say so." he concluded, waving a finger at the humming machines.

A few hours passed. No-one was exactly sure of their next move and Jack couldn't help thinking that they were all one step from disaster. What if these two groups of eight men each were destined to be the only men from the H.M.S. Resistance to reach Moscow, but by meddling with the original plan and not meeting in Vyshniy Volochek, fate could have them down as responsible for a nuclear holocaust and the deaths of hundreds of millions of people. Jack shuddered at the thoughts which he could no longer keep from his mind. He wasn't superstitious. "I'm the most unsuperstitious person on the planet." he thought to himself when it cropped up. However, he was far from convinced and longed to know whether they were doing the right thing.

Presently, Jack was asked, along with Breeze, to relieve Munro and Williams of guarding the cabins. They found their ways to the cabins and Jack flashed a smile to Munro indicating that they could go. But to his astonishment, they were not the only men there, for they sat with four of the prisoners playing cards. Munro acknowledged the arrival of Breeze and Jack, but simply raised a finger from behind his fanned cards requesting for another minute of play.

A prisoner slapped a card down on the floor, and smiled. Another man collected his palmful of cards and lay them face down on the floor and laughed, waving his arms across his chest. Munro looked into the eyes of the remaining players and threw a cigarette onto a rapidly increasing pile, selected a card and discarded it. All of the foreigners roared with laughter and the man to Munro's left smiled and shook his head. Discarding one of his own cards he picked up the other discarded cards, before discarding nearly all of them down again, counting out pairs and runs as he did so. He smiled and laughed as the other players' cards were thrown down in disgust and he took the pile of cigarettes, stuffing them into any pocket which had sufficient room.

Jack stared in disbelief. "What the hell's going on?" he whispered, barely moving his lips. Munro and Williams gestured for the four men to move out of the corridor and back into the cabin. They did so with the winner smiling and waving a pointed finger at Munro.

"Fuck off!" laughed Munro, shaking his head. Williams locked the door behind the prisoners and gave the key to Breeze.

"What the hell's going on?" repeated Jack a little louder than before.

Munro shrugged. "I'll be buggered if I know how that game works." He turned Williams. "I mean, I thought the idea was to try to lose your..." he continued, looking for support from Williams, who simply shrugged and shook his head. "All I know is it cost me more than fifteen fags!" he finished with a smile.

"Perhaps it's for the best." replied Williams, stifling a yawn with his fist, "I heard somewhere that they'll kill you, fags and that."

"Oh, and war won't?" asked Munro.

"Fair point, I suppose." agreed Williams.

"I don't mean the fucking game!" yelled Jack, scarcely believing his senses. Williams and Munro looked at Jack, then at each other. "This!" continued Jack. "This...cards game or whatever it is."

"Oh, well." started Munro. "You know. Summit to do. Keep up morale and well you know, it's not their fault they've been captured by a bunch of psychotic madmen!" he finished, nodding towards the door of the cabin.

"Morale?" asked Jack. "Who's morale?"

"Judging by the number of smokes they won, I'd say it was theirs!" joked Williams.

"Oh come on!" moaned Munro, the first time he'd sounded serious since Jack arrived. "I mean for God's sake, come on, it was just a game of cards..."

"And a couple of packs of fags!" interrupted Williams.

Munro turned his head towards him. "Shut it!" he said, then turned back to Jack. "Yeah, OK." he continued, lowering his voice. "We just let them out in groups of four at a time for a bit. Like I say..."

"Morale." predicted Jack.

"Yeah, that's right. As I say, morale; if you keep it up they aren't going to try to escape."

"On a submarine!" contributed Breeze. "What the hell are they going to do? Do a Jonah and hitch-hike in a whale's gut?"

"No, but, you know, they won't try anything, you know, funny."

"OK." admitted Jack, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Yeah, OK." he said again. "Yeah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to blow my top." he continued, desperate to stay on the right side of him; Jack had enough enemies already. "You know. It's..." he stammered, waving his arms all around him. "It's this. All this fucking...fighting...war...crap." he blurted in short bursts. "It's just getting to me a bit. After all, I've been a slave labourer already and had a nice swim in a freezing ocean." Jack shivered at the thoughts of the events which had occurred to him over recent weeks. "So." he concluded, "You're OK to clear off now if you want." he smiled. "That is unless you want to lose any more cigarettes on your Russian Roulette game."

Jack made himself comfortable on a pipe which ran along the side of the corridor, as did Breeze. They sat and said little for a while, and tried to work out what day of the week it was. Having come to the conclusion that it was 7th December, their conversation faltered a bit until a knock was heard from on of the cabin doors. Jack looked at Breeze.

"What?" called Breeze. There was nothing. Then there was another knock. "What d'you want?" he called again. The voice of a Soviet sailor became audible and called for someone. Jack and Breeze stood up and Jack pulled his rifle off his shoulder. Lifting it up to eye level, he nodded to Breeze who unlocked and opened the door slightly. Jack, looking down the sights of the rifle, found his eyes meeting with those of another man who became quickly aware of the weapon and put his hands in the air.

He muttered something that Jack did not understand as the others too placed their hands in the air. "What did you want?" demanded Jack of the man. He stared at Jack and pulled a hand slowly down, before transforming it into a pointing finger and prodded his own chest. "You. Yes. You. What did you want?" The man stared at Jack, before turning to a comrade. He muttered something and a few shrugs were exchanged before another man spoke up.

"Time." he said, with little confidence. Jack looked at Breeze, then back to the man, without once moving his head. "Time." he repeated. He frowned. "Go." he tried, pointing at himself, then extending his gesture towards the rest of the men in the cabin.

"What the hell does he mean?" asked Jack to Breeze.

"Beats me." he replied.

The man again pointed at himself and uttered "Time." Jack tried, but failed to understand.

"Go and get Dunn." he suggested, and Breeze gave the key to Jack. He took a step back and lowered his gun then motioned for the others to put down their hands. The sailor took a step forwards, but Jack's decision to raise his gun needed no translation, and he returned that step backwards.

A minute later, Dunn arrived with Breeze. Dunn asked them what they wanted and after a minute of conversation. Dunn nodded and gave his report. "According to them, it's their shift. They work in the galley and its lunchtime apparently."

"Oh." sighed Jack.

"D'you reckon we should tell Walden?" asked Dunn.

Jack looked at Dunn for a few seconds. "Why should we?" he answered. "I mean it's not as if he's any form of democratically elected leader, is he? If these guys are cooks then I'm sure it doesn't warrant anyone's particular permission." Dunn stared at Jack for a second, before turning to Breeze.

"Hey, come on." contributed Breeze. "He was only..."

"Yeah, whatever." said Jack, coldly. "Like I said before, I'm feeling a bit rough." He looked up at Dunn again. "D'you want to take them off?"

"OK." he replied and beckoned the men forward from inside the cabin. They looked around and nodded politely at Jack as they marched past him.

"Dunn!" called Jack. He stopped and turned his head. "Sorry." apologised Jack to Dunn, who gave a quick nod during a long blink before turning back to the others and marching off.

Jack took a cigarette packet out of a pocket and looked down at the single cigarette which nervously protruded from the crumpled mixture of card and paper. He put it to his lips and clasped them securely around the apparently universally accepted currency and drew it from its home. It took five of his eighteen matches taken from the store some 24 hours earlier to actually light the cigarette, by which time he decided he didn't need it. He snapped the end off and returned the remainder to the packet.


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